


The Halo, The Millstone - Concept

by In_Cogito



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bought at an Auction, Broken Beauty, Broken Wings, Christian Themes, Christianity, Fallen Angel, Gen, Guilt, Human Whumper, Human caretaker, Non-human whumpee, Read the tags please, Rescued, Self-Loathing, Whump, hunger, self hate, self starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29187267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Cogito/pseuds/In_Cogito
Summary: “Do you have patience to wait till your mud settles and the water is clear?” ―Lao TzuShe remembered the fall.  Every angel always remembered the fall.  And a life after that just didn't seem possible.  Riesling let the purchase happen, let the pain and the blood roar and spill until she was little more than a shell of what she used to be.And then someone decided that she had enough.  Reached into the pit and pulled her out without knowing the true depth of her trespass against God.
Kudos: 2





	The Halo, The Millstone - Concept

**Author's Note:**

> I did want to whump a broken beauty type of character. I also have a tendency to beat myself up, so maybe this story can be a healthier way of coping with that. For now, I suppose this is more of a proof of concept than anything, but I most likely will be incorporating it into a collection of some kind if it's well received. 
> 
> By all means, do proceed and enjoy! And don't forget to mind the tags and consume safely!

Riesling startled. She found herself laying on her belly, on a towel on a concrete floor, and felt late morning sunshine on her back. This room. It felt familiar. The furniture was sparse. The windows sat high on the wall. There was enough space for some shelves, some cardboard boxes and little more. Dingy. Simplistic. Ever present was the bone deep ache in her wings, along with a strange tightness. They had been folded in. It wasn’t easy to move, but Riesling managed to shift enough to look over her shoulder. The edge of bright purple gauze made its way to her peripheral. 

Oh. Casts. One for each wing. And a pillow under her head, a blanket covering her legs and pulled up to the small of her back. The ring- her halo and the holder of the last of her divinity- remained on her left hand. It was a surprise. Given her state, stealing the ring would have been easy to the point of obscenity. It would have been the perfect opportunity for any human to truly rise above the rest. Yet here the ring remained. 

Her rescuer’s words rang unbidden in her mind. _“This isn’t right. And that’s all the reason I need to put an end to what’s going on. Come on. We’re both getting far away from this asshole.”_

And not long after that she . . . 

Riesling lifted her hand off the makeshift bed. The tremors began almost immediately and she let her hand fall. Standing and walking on her own suddenly didn’t sound so feasible. She remembered her . . . outburst. She remembered the pain of forcing her broken wings open and the foreign sensation of every cell and fiber in her body being ignited all at once. Then the debris. The darkness that opened below her like a pit and swallowed her whole, sent her drifting. How it was so comfortable, how nothing mattered. 

Where was this power when her charge was still alive?

Simple. It was there alright. The good and faithful Irididiel just didn’t care enough about her duty as a guardian angel. What other reason could there possibly be? What other reason was she worthy of?

Riesling closed her eyes again and remained there. She didn’t deserve this makeshift bed. She didn’t deserve these casts. She didn’t deserve her wings or her halo or her God-given name. And she certainly shouldn’t have been taken away from the man who gave her exactly what she deserved. Humiliation. Broken bones. Bruises. 

Punishment. Penance. 

This situation- this kindness- was little more than a sick joke. 

She started to fade in and out again. The building was quiet and still as wind roared outside. A door would open or close distantly. Music played over a sound system of some kind. Long melodies would ebb and flow over and under each other from instruments that Riesling didn’t recognize. Maybe . . . strings, if she had to venture a guess. Then clattering. Like metal. Pots and pans and the distinct sizzle of oil. 

A restaurant? Was this a back room of some sort? 

She opened her eyes again at the sound of footsteps. Voices seemed to flutter on the other side of the door to the makeshift guest room. The handle clicked and someone entered. A man, shorter and more slender than the average human male, wearing a black button down shirt and work pants. Tattoos wound around and slithered up the length of his bare arms: Fire, water, and ornately designed fish, from the looks of it. Riesling managed to push herself up in a sitting position, legs tucked under her. A new ache pulsed in her wings. The man closed the door and watched her carefully, eyes flicking up to her casts. Several of his features toed the line between soft and hard. Brown hair and almond irises. Fair skin. Firm jawline. And a voice that meant no harm in the slightest. “You speak English?”

Riesling blinked at him. “What?”

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

She managed a small nod.

“Good. That makes this easier.” The man picked a spot on the floor and sat down cross legged. “You really saved my ass back there. So I pulled in a favor to try and save yours. This is the first time I’ve seen you awake in two days. Sorry about the set up, by the way. Floors aren’t comfy to sleep on, but the only other option was one of the rooms these guys rent out for . . . Eh, you don’t really need to know what those rooms are for.”

It was another enclosed space. She was stuck with another human who wasn’t responding to her divinity as she would expect a normal human to. Anything could happen to her at this point. 

Not that it mattered. 

“Did you get anything to eat yet?”

“ . . . No.”

“When’s the last time you ate something?”

Riesling swayed. Only just barely. “I’m not sure, honestly. I’m not good at keeping track of time.”

“Do . . . you normally need to eat?” She looked up and the man fumbled over himself. “I mean,” he gestured up to the bright purple casts, “It’s kind of up in the air as far as I know. We don’t see a lot of . . . angels. Around here. Look, just-” He was pushing himself back up on his feet and heading toward the door. “Forget I said anything. Stay here. I’ll see what I can scrape together.” 

Riesling didn’t protest as he scrambled out of the room and shut the door again. It wasn’t long before he came back holding a dark grey bowl and a spoon held only by his pinkie finger. The contents were bursting with color. Yellow, red, white. Bits of green. And pink, some light and some dark. Every ingredient seemed to have been placed in their own small patches inside the bowl. She swallowed at the sight. Damien used to tease her with food that looked like this, yet this good samaritan was sitting down in front of her and practically shoving it into her hands.

“Chirashi-don,” he explained. “It’s just rice and fish and veggies and stuff. Imagine sushi if you were too lazy to roll it up.” 

Riesling curled her fingers around the handle of the spoon. 

“Don’t overthink it, ok?” 

She looked up at him. “Overthink what?”

“You know, the food. I don’t know what he did to you or what he told you or what kind of rules he had. But it’s ok to eat. You are allowed to eat. You’re not gonna be punished or anything if you eat. Alright?”

The man was looking at her funny. Like he was getting into territory that he didn’t want to be in or sticking his nose into business that wasn’t his but that concerned him all the same. And there was an emphasis to his words as he made the permission more solid and simple. The angel pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. He was observant, this human. He could accurately assess that this was something she might have been feeling. Thus, it was fair to conclude that he knew what Damien was capable of or what he was inclined to do. 

“Please.”

Please. Her charge, when he was still alive, used that same tone of voice on occasion. He had children to look after. A son and a daughter. They wanted to be good for their father. They wanted to be happy for him. Mom was dead and it was their job to smile when Dad couldn’t. At seven and nine years old, they understood that. 

It broke his heart to hear them say such a thing. The angel felt it herself, watched as her charge sat his children down and made them promise never to fake happiness again and to never feel bad about being sad. He begged them with a gentle fervor that no one could just walk away from and the sound would never fail to stop her in her tracks. 

“Please believe me.” 

Riesling obeyed in the end. She set the bowl in her lap, took a spoonful and brought it to her lips, pulling it out clean. There was a gentle yet prickly sweetness to the rice. The dark pink pieces- fish- felt cool in her mouth and was easy to chew. Cucumber offered more of the way in texture than in flavor. All in all, it was palatable and easy to eat. Seemed to both stoke and abate her appetite at the same time. “What’s this?” She held up one of the tiny red spheres in her spoon.

“That? Uh, ikura. Salmon eggs. It’s good for you.”

Riesling tried it. The flavor was significantly stronger than the other ingredients, but she found herself liking it all the same. His relief was visible even if the concern never left. 

She made it just under halfway through the bowl when he spoke again. 

“So.”

Riesling froze, lips still closed around the head of the spoon.

“. . . I have questions.”

Fair enough. She finished her mouthful and swallowed. “I can answer them.”

“How did you end up with Damien?”

Long story. The fall from Heaven might have been a straight line but the rest certainly wasn’t. It was entirely possible that God had nothing to do with her punishment on Earth. But Riesling knew better than to blame God for the bad things that happened. She poked the rice and fish with the spoon and took another bite. “He bought me.”

“As in, purchased? Like at an auction?”

“Yes.”

The man let out a sigh. “You know, I should be shocked. But I’m . . .” He shook his head and looked away. “I’m not. I’m really not.”

“You know him?”

“Unfortunately. This isn’t even my first time putting some distance between us. Or getting out of that life.”

“. . . I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged. “We survive a hundred percent bad choices, don’t we?”

Do they? Somehow that felt wrong, like a dangerous idea to buy into. There are some things a person just doesn’t deserve to survive. The fallen angel felt the sudden urge to change the subject. “I never got your name.”

The man laughed out loud at that. “Yeah, we didn’t exactly have time for introductions, did we?” He straightened up and looked her in the eye. “‘Erin’ usually works. What about you?”

“. . . Riesling. That’s the name he gave me.”

“Mhm. And what’s your real name?”

Irididiel. She remembered the day she was given her name like it was yesterday. There was a wholeness that she hadn’t experienced before. God the father, indeed. It was the first time she felt like she belonged to someone. Humans might call it a sense of “family” or “camaraderie.” Her earliest memories of happiness came from her name on the lips of her brothers and sisters above, when the universe was young and when Lucifer himself was spinning ice and rock into beautiful stars. It even became a game. Who could throw them the farthest? Who could be the biggest help to their older brother? Irididiel-

. . . Irididiel. 

“I’m not worthy of my old name. Not anymore.”

“Oh, come on!” Erin faced her head on. “You don’t honestly believe that, do you?!”

“Why not? It's true.”

“If Damien told you that-”

“You don’t know what I’m guilty of!”

He jumped back. Her voice- the truth- came out louder than she intended it to. Fear. He was afraid. Riesling felt her posture sag. The spoon in her hand felt heavy. That’s right. He had been there during the escape. He knew about what she could do and the damage and havoc she was capable of. Humans got in the way that night. They died. And he still made the choice to save her. 

“You don’t know. And we’re gonna keep it that way.”

The silence stretched on. And on. And Erin stayed anyways. 

“We’ll discuss this later.” There wasn’t a hint of anger in his voice. A note of fear, maybe, but it was a drop in a soft, sympathetic ocean. “I’ll let you finish eating. And if you want, you can get some more rest, too. We’re gonna lay low for a little bit longer before we start moving again.” He nodded, eyes to the floor. “Damien’s gonna be looking for you. And you need to be fresh when we leave.”

Erin stood up, stepped out and closed the door with a soft click. The voices started again, low and dejected, before fading into nothing. The muffled music continued. Riesling looked down at the food in her bowl and the spoon in her hand. She wanted more, especially on a biological or metabolic level. But someone like her shouldn’t get to have more. The human didn’t need to know the details. She set the items down, pushed them away across the floor, and curled back up on the towel. Hunger roared inside her and sleep came as an uncomfortable, turbulent abyss. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment. Criticism is more than welcome here!


End file.
